


In Which There is a Baby to Mind

by DuchessofGrandeour, DwarvenBeardSpores



Category: Castle in the Air - Fandom, Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Book 2: Castle in the Air, Breastfeeding, Companionable Snark, Couples Who Quarrel, Gen, New Baby, New Family, New Parents, Quarrelsome couples, Snark, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 09:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14305716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuchessofGrandeour/pseuds/DuchessofGrandeour, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenBeardSpores/pseuds/DwarvenBeardSpores
Summary: Set immediately after Castle in the Air (so spoilers, of course)With the djinn taken care of and all the princesses gone off to their separate kingdoms, Howl and Sophie find themselves alone with their new, human baby and quite unsure what to do about it.





	In Which There is a Baby to Mind

**Author's Note:**

> -Thanks to Dwarven Beard Spores for coming up with a lot of this dialog with me!
> 
> -A Jump is a type of undergarment similar to a corset but it has no boning. I feel like Sophie would prefer that to a traditional corset - it's more comfortable and sensible.

It took some doing to clear the castle of all the princesses and other unsuspected company. With the help of Prince Justin (and Ben and Lettie, once called on) and with absolutely no help from Calcifer or Howl, the royalty were all sorted out and sent on their way to their various homelands.

As Sophie and company worked on seeing the ladies home (and finding temporary lodging for Abdullah and Flower-In-The-Night) Howl spent his time acquainting himself with his son. While the others scrambled about with messengers and carriages Howl cooed and babbled and giggled with Morgan.

Sophie suspected that Howl was slithering out of work. No, she  _knew_  he was. But Morgan's big, toothless smile and joyous laughter softened her. She decided to ignore the slithering out. After all, someone had to mind the baby during all the commotion.

When the princesses were gone and the castle was set back to rights Calcifer, exhausted from his stint as a magic carpet nestled into his spot in the fireplace and fell into a peaceful, crackling doze. And it was sleep well deserved, Sophie thought, for he had been through nearly as much as she had since the djinn uprooted their lives.

Finally alone, just the four of them, Sophie looked round at her home. It felt dreadfully empty without Michael and the new apprentice, Jonathan puttering about. And Calcifer wasn't awake to chat with or read to. It made Sophie feel queer, being alone with Howl and Morgan. She so rarely had time with just Howl and now that it was the three of them…

So she did what she always did when faced with uncomfortable feelings; Sophie cleaned.

She  _really_  wanted to clean herself more than the castle for when she was a cat she bathed with a near constancy (when she wasn't minding Morgan). It had been  _hours_  since she bathed last and she felt rather grimy. But for now the castle took top priority. The sooner that was cleaned the sooner things would be back the way they were before the whole djinn ordeal.

Mostly.

Now there was a baby. A helpless, human baby who depended on them.

“Sophie dear,” Howl said in a singsong way that matched the tune of the lullaby he was presently singing to Morgan. “I think cleaning can wait a few hours. You ought to rest a bit”

“Those djinn left this place in a dreadful state,” Sophie said, filling the kitchen sink with hot water to do the dishes.

“Sophie-”

“That's to say nothing of those princesses. You would think they'd learn to pick up a broom. Though I suppose they have servants for that sort of thing.”

Sophie dunked crusty plates into the hot, soapy water a bit more vigorously than she ought to, splashing all over her skirts. She cringed at the feeling of being wet but realized her aversion was a residual effect of being a cat for so long. And it was a necessity if she wanted her home back in order.

“Darling, the dishes can wait.” Howl stood up, gently rocking a sleeping Morgan in his arms, his long, mauve sleeves wiggling with the motion.

“I swear Howl, they're worse than you.”

“Cariad.” Howl’s words were a quiet hum.

Sophie hadn't heard Howl come up near her so it was a surprise when his arm slithered around her waist. A plate slipped from her hand and plopped into the dish water. Sophie paused to collect herself before picking it back up and charging through the conversation.

“And we ought to retrieve Michael and Jonathan,” Sophie said. “Won't they be relieved to finally come home.”

Howl pulled his arm away, checking that Morgan was still asleep and secure. He took the dish from Sophie and grabbed hold of her hand before she could pick up another.

“Cariad,” Howl hummed again.

The gentle reassurance in his voice made Sophie turn to him. His soft gaze flustered her.

“Sophie, we're parents.”

Howl smiled down at her. She noticed the little wrinkles at the corners of his green eyes that he typically masked with beauty spells. They made him look so mature and distinguished and even handsome in his own way. She very nearly told him this but realized it would lead to half a day spent in the bathroom. Then it would just be her alone with the baby. Sophie kept her mouth shut and forced herself to smile back at her husband.

With a little laugh Howl squeezed Sophie's hand. As he leaned in to kiss her, Sophie glanced down at Morgan and felt a new wave of anxiety.

“We ought to see what they left for food,” she sighed, letting her hand slip from Howl’s.

Sophie opened their small cupboard and frowned. She reached in and retrieved a doll-sized, glass bottle of milk and an apple no larger than an almond.

“I shouldn't be surprised that they didn't think of keeping the food the right size,” Sophie muttered. “I suppose I'll have to go to market.”

“The market can wait,” Howl said, continuing to rock Morgan to and fro, trying to keep his voice low in spite of his annoyance. “A simple enlargement spell will set the food straight.”

“While you're working on that I'll get the nursery in order,” Sophie commanded. She began to twist her hair into the high braid she used when she was about to really get to work. “You ought to start with the milk. Morgan will likely be hungry when he wakes up.”

“Sophie?” Howl looked confused. His words were heavy with something that Sophie couldn't distinguish.

She hesitated before responding with a hurried “hmm?” as she fastened her braid in place.

“You aren't going to nurse him?” Howl asked.

“Well- er- not now, no; there's far too much to do and left to your own devices I know you'll just slither out of the work.”

Sophie began to pin up the hem of her skirts.

“He can't just have cows milk; there aren't enough nutrients,” Howl said, trying to keep his voice low as not to wake Morgan. Arguing proved much more difficult with a baby around.

“He really enjoyed the fish you got him when you were a genie,” Sophie said, equally as quiet. She reached for her apron on the peg on the wall. “See, I  _do_  need to go to the market today. I'm sure Porthaven has some fresh-”

Howl moved toward her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Sophie pulled her arm away from the apron, letting it fall to her side.

“You know he's too young for that. He hasn't even got any teeth,” he said. “Sophie, you haven't so much as touched our son since I became myself again. Don't you want to hold him now that you're both human?”

“Perhaps in a little while,” said Sophie.

“Sophie are you… are you  _slithering out_  of holding Morgan?”

“Of course not,” Sophie lifted her chin and met Howl's scrutiny.

“You're afraid of him,” Howl accused.

“That's preposterous,” Sophie scoffed.

“Then here, hold our son,” Howl said, taking a step toward her.

“No!” Sophie took two steps back.

“Sophie!” Howl said with an incredulous laugh.

Sophie sighed.

“He's just so... vulnerable,” she said.

“But you did a stellar job with him all on your own.”

“When we were  _cats,"_  Sophie said a bit too loudly.

Morgan stirred in Howl's arms. Both parents paused, holding their breath. When Morgan settled again, Sophie continued.

"I know how to take care of a kitten, Howl, not a baby! Perhaps we can turn him back until he's old enough to fend for himself. He seemed to like being a kitten so much more than a human anyway."

“Sophie, that's ridiculous-”

The glare Sophie gave Howl cut him off. He turned from her under the guise of walking Morgan about in a soothing way.

"I already missed his birth when I was stuck in that damned bottle.”

“Watch your language in front of the baby!” Sophie chided.

Howl sighed.

“I'm not going to skip over Morgan's childhood as well,” Howl said glumly. But he quickly turned round with a new fight in him. “And why  _did_  you name him Morgan anyway? We hadn't agreed to a name yet."

“I had to name him  _something!_  It wouldn't do to go around calling him 'the baby’ or something equally ridiculous.” Now Sophie was taking her apron off and unpinning her hair. “How do you think he'd feel, knowing his parents didn't bother to name him?”

"Sophie dear, you were a  _cat._  The only thing you  _could_  have called the boy was meow."

"You don't know the first thing about being a cat.” Sophie went back to the sink to scrub more dishes.

Howl scoffed.

"Of course I've never been one for as long as you have, but--"

"Just because cats don't speak the same language doesn't mean we don't communicate.” Sophie attacked a plate rather violently with the scrub brush. “I would have  _known_  he didn't have a name, and  _he_  would have known. Is that what you want for our son?"

Howl flung himself onto the chair at the workbench. It was no small feet to fling himself dramatically into a seat while keeping the infant he cradled peacefully asleep, but Howl managed it with his usual grace.

"You just didn't want to use any of the names that  _I_  liked! You gave him a name that  _you_  fancied when I wasn't able to say a thing about it.” He looked down and spoke to Morgan. “You think you know a person and then something like this happens. My first lesson to you my son: be wary of beautiful women.”

Sophie spun round so fast she accidentally dropped her scrub brush which went skittering across the wooden floor.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, don't pretend you don't realize how beautiful you are,” Howl complained dismissively.

“Ugh, no. The other part!” Sophie crossed her arms.

“Only that I never took you for an opportunist. It seems I was wrong.” Howl lowered his head looking very hurt and pathetic.

“Opportunist! Really!” Sophie marched toward Howl, wagging her finger at him. “As if you wouldn't name him after one of your silly rugby friends if I weren't around to put a stop to it."

"And what's wrong with Piers?" Howl looked wounded.

"Piers is an absolute  _dolt._  He's the worst one of the lot!"

"You simply don't understand what it means to be Welsh," Howl said, looking quite tragic. "And I was expecting you to bully me out of that one anyway, but I still thought I'd have  _some_  influence."

Sophie snorted.

"You've been trying to have your way by claiming Welsh tradition since the wedding-"

Howl looked up to the ceiling and took a deep, deep breath.

"Will I never escape this? I told you-- even  _Megan_  told you, and you know  _she_  isn't on my side! The bit about the garter  _isn't_  made up!"

“I forgot how impossible it is to get any rest in this place,” Calcifer complained from the fireplace, sounding annoyed and groggy. “Do you two even know what you're trying to argue about anymore?”

They both answered a sharp “yes” in unison which jolted Morgan from his sleep. He responded in kind with a piercing, howling cry and decided not to stop.

“I'm going out to the yard where it's quiet,” Calcifer said, drifting toward the door.

"If you singe any of my materials I'll lock you out in the next rainstorm," Howl called after him. 

"Yeah, yeah," Calcifer called behind him as he floated out the door, sounding completely unconcerned.

Sophie watched on feeling rather pathetic as Howl tried, unsuccessfully to soothe Morgan, bouncing him up and down, dangling sleeves for him to play with, rubbing his back. None of it worked.

“He needs to eat,” Howl said over the crying.

“You think I don't know that?” Sophie snapped.

“I can conjure formula here from Wales,” Howl conceded, nearly shouting to be heard over Morgan's cries. “It’s just as good as the real thing. You'll have to hold him while I do the magic though.”

“Let me sit down,” Sophie called out over the wailing.

She felt that she had less of a chance of dropping Morgan if she was seated comfortably.

Howl nodded his agreement. Sophie nervously sat on the little sofa left behind from the djinn. It was rather comfortable and she thought she might keep it. When Howl strode near with the screaming infant Sophie sat up a little straighter.

“You're sure it isn't his nappy?” Sophie asked, smoothing her skirts.

“Yes, I checked,” said Howl.

Sophie looked at her son, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Well, give him here before he discovers how to conjure slime,” said Sophie, reaching her arms out.

“It happened _one_   _time,"_  Howl grumbled, lowering Morgan into Sophie's outstretched arms.

“And that was one time too many,” Sophie said.

But she was more focused on Morgan than the argument. More specifically, she spent all her concentration on holding the boy. Her entire body was tense and she feared any movement would send him hurtling to the ground.

“He's not made of porcelain,” Howl said, scrutinizing Sophie. “You can relax a bit. He'll be much happier if you do.”

“I'm working up to it,” Sophie snapped. “Just get the formula.”

Howl took a deep breath and went to his workbench.

Sophie looked down at Morgan who was crying and trying to wriggle out of his swaddle. It was so much easier when he was a kitten. Then she could just pick him up by the scruff if she needed to. He was already on solids and could walk about as he pleased.

“Come on, hush now. It won't be long,” Sophie said to Morgan, trying to sound much more positive than she felt. Then to Howl, “you aren't stealing are you?”

“What, exactly do you think conjuring is?”

“What kind of example do you think you're setting for our son?” Sophie chided, swaying her body side to side, hoping that the rocking would calm Morgan. It didn't.

“Sophie dear, I have my PhD in philosophy, not chemistry. And I'm no alchemist,” Howl threw up his hands. “I can't just create formula from nothing.”

“Some wizard,” Sophie grumped to Morgan who let out a shriek that Sophie took to mean he agreed.

“Fine!” Howl said and stood up rather abruptly. “I'll just go to Wales then!”

“I don't see why we can't use the milk that's already here,” Sophie said, standing just as swiftly.

Now she paced the room, hoping the movement would soothe Morgan. Sophie was so frustrated she forgot to be afraid of holding him.

“I told you, there aren't enough  _nutrients."_

“Why are you making something so simple into something so difficult?” Sophie hissed, lifting Morgan to rest on her shoulder so she could rub his back.

Howl pursed his lips into a thin line and exhaled long and hard. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself before any sound came out. Instead, he sighed again, a bit too pronounced for Sophie’s liking.

“I'll just go to Wales and get it,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Try to keep him calm until then.”

“Well how long will that take?”

“Twenty minutes if I can avoid my family. Otherwise longer,” Howl said, marching over to the front door.

“That's too long!” Sophie cried.

She'd already reached her limit of Morgan's screaming. It simultaneously broke her heart and grated against her nerves.

“There’s nothing else I can do,” Howl said, setting the knob on the front door to black-down. “It's either conjure formula or go get it. You've got to pick one or the other.”

“Of all the ridiculous ideas,” Sophie huffed. She began to unbutton the top of her dress with one hand as she complained. “Don't bother going anywhere or conjuring anything. I’ll take care of this mess myself, as usual.”

“I don't see why I'm getting blamed for this,” Howl said, whipping round to face her. “Being enslaved as a genie, I haven't exactly had time to prepare for an infant.”

“And you didn't want to take care of us in that state either!” Sophie strode over to Howl and thrusted the wailing Morgan into his arms. With the bodice of her dress now open, she began to unfasten the clasps of her jump.

“I took care of you the whole time! I fed you  _and_  protected you!” Howl rocked Morgan to and fro.

Sophie snorted.

“You did everything you could to avoid giving us food or helping Abdullah get to those wretched djinn.”

“I was  _trying_  to get the boy to wish me back to normal so that I could actually help! I did my best!”

“Your best my foot. You were throwing a disgusting tantrum. I've had enough of this, give Morgan here.”

Sophie's jump was open now, hanging off of her like a vest. She took Morgan out of Howl's arms with great authority and held him to her breast.

“Go on, this is what you're crying for, isn't it?” She said to her son impatiently.

As if he were paying heed to her words, Morgan stopped crying and latched on.

“There, that wasn't so hard, was it?” She murmured down to him.

Then, in the fresh silence Sophie looked up at Howl with wide eyes. The smile Howl wore quickly pulled into a frown.

“Are you alright, dear? You've gone white,” he said, touching his fingers to her elbow.

“Howl, I'm- I'm doing it! I'm feeding my baby,” Sophie whispered so quiet she nearly didn't make a sound.

“And you're doing a fine job,” Howl said softly, his warm smile returning. He stroked his thumb across her cheek. “Why don't you sit down? You ought to be comfortable.”

Sophie slowly nodded and allowed Howl to lead her to the little sofa. While Howl set a fire in the fireplace, Sophie watched Morgan in amazement as she felt the warm relief that came from nursing. With closed eyes Morgan made little, satisfied grunts as he fed.

Howl came to sit next to Sophie, wrapping an arm across her shoulders. He stroked the top of Morgan's head with the back of his fingers.

Sophie couldn't help but sigh contentedly as she lay her head against her husband and looked down at their son. Howl kissed the top of her hair then rested his cheek against her.

“You're a good mother,” he said in a quiet voice. “Even if you're too obstinate.”

“And you're a good father,” said Sophie. “Even if you throw childish tantrums.”

Howl chuckled.

“If he takes after either of us I think we're in for a long haul,” said Howl. “But I'm ready for it.

“As am I,” said Sophie, stroking their son on the cheek with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to approach this without shaming breastfeeding over bottle feeding (or the other way around) because I think both ways of feeding a baby are valid and it's no ones place to say what you should or shouldn't do. I hope I handled the topic with sensitivity.


End file.
